The Seventh Queen
by AnineSWallace
Summary: What if there was a seventh wife of King Henry the eighth? What if she had given him a son? And what if he loved her the most? Henry/o.c. relationship.
1. Preface: Fire

The crazed look in his eyes told her all that she needed to know. The events were pushing forward fast; faster then she or her aunt had ever anticipated. He stroked his gentle fingers across her bottom lip before he turned from her. She saw his shoulders tense, his back straighten in anger.

"And to think I love you," he stated with a snort.

He brought his icy stare back to her; all emotion was void from his handsome face. She knew what her fate was. Either banishment or death and she did not fancy either choice. She ran her hands along the folds of her red dress as to keep herself calm. The king turned fully and moved across the room towards her.

"What am I to do?" he asked, his eyes wide and pleading with her to give him a good answer. But she knew none. She had broken rules, "You left me with no choice," he pulled her into his warm arms. The arms she had missed for many months, "What am I to do?"

He was going to leave her again. She could feel him pulling away from her. His wall was building up again; starting to block all emotions tied her. She brought her lips on his. The heat of her need flowed into the King, her king. He melted into her kiss. She felt his wall crumbling as he melted into her kiss.

This was her king, her lover, her husband, and her very soul.


	2. Chapter One: Death and Dreams

Chapter One

May 19, 1536

Gathered amongst the crowd of the English subjects were the corrupters; the deceivers. Anne knew this as she walked out of the Tower of London to face her death. The one thing she had known she could not avoid. All eyes were wet with sadness and vengeance. All eyes watched her. She should have known death would be her end. She had after all convinced the King she would be capable of giving him a son. The failure to do so had been her demise. Questions arose in her mind as she walked towards the Tower Green. Had Henry ever really loved her? Had she ever truly known love from her former king? Memory suggested otherwise to the silent queen.

Xxxxxxx

The counsel and parliament members stood as Anne was ushered into the Tower of London. She had been bound with chains and knew nothing of what she was bound for. All eyes that fell upon her were accusing; hateful. All around her sat her destroyers. She almost let a smile feed her lips with poison. This was how it was to end.

Thomas Cromwell was at the head of the table. His eyes full of lust for power and hunger for blood. She ventured her gaze around the room. Surprisingly she found Henry staring at her from the far right corner of the room. He faced her with a cold, unloving stare. She almost let out a cry, but held it back. She would show she had not been beaten down by the king and his pawns. She would be strong. But at the moment of her decision for strength she collapsed upon the floor in pure exhaustion. She had not been given much time for recovery from her miscarriage. The ordeal had weakened her. Almost killed her.

"Where is my father?" she demanded as she pulled herself from the floor. "Where is my brother?" she looked around the room once more. Her eyes pierced each man's heart with anger and spite, "And on what charges have I been brought here for?"

None of the accusers answered her. All shuddered around her from the bite in her words; the steely glare she had produced even when upset. She was the queen that the country had needed. She was here for reasons she did not know. She looked around once more; challenging any of them to accuse her. She found Henry's eyes again. He cast his stare away from her. His eyes did not want to gaze upon her. She felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. Clutching the bottom of her stomach, she let out a soft sob. Soft enough for her husband to hear. No, she would find no love in this room. For in the end she would have to endure this alone.

"Your Majesty," she spoke choosing her next words carefully. She watched as his gaze came back to her. A faint hint of emotion in his eyes, "Come try one more time with me. This time I am certain you will have your son."

She watched him clinch his hands into fists and pound against the arm of the royal chair. His face contorted into a mess of angry lines as he contemplated her words. She had lost it. His love had finally turned into hate against her.

"Silence your tongue!" Henry bellowed, "You have done too much of your seducing for the last few years. Your bewitching has come to an end. Be silent."

She thought she saw a small smile cross Thomas' face. She hung her head. Her mouth slipped into a tight line as she pressed back her final words. She had been defeated; beaten down into the pits of hell. She heard the squeak of chair legs as someone was preparing to leave the room. She looked back up only to be inches from her former lover. He moved to touch her. The effort it seemed to her was hard for him. He hesitated then finally let his fingers caress her bottom lip. The gesture was one he had done when they had first known each other. The gesture of his love towards her. She felt him pull away and push past her and leave from the room. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her fears finally lay to rest with his departure.

She collapsed from the intense pain of abandonment. She had been thrown away like Katherine of Aragorn. Another useless toy to the king. Had this been how Katherine had felt when the king had announced his divorce from her? She would never know. She heard a throat clear and immediately she brought her eyes up. Thomas Cromwell was smirking down at her from his seat.

"You sly serpent of the devil," Anne hissed, "You deceiver of deceivers. Tainted man of Satan. What have ye done to me and my marriage? What have ye done to my daughter?"

"The charges that have been brought forth against you are of the following: Adultery, incest, and High treason against the king himself. What plead you?" Thomas stated more then asked.

She smirked at the accusations. They were a pathetic attempt at soiling her reputation. She had never done such things. Had never slept with her brother nor had she ever slept with another man besides the King himself. But what use was it to fight these charges. They would win against her. The king himself would see to that.

"Not guilty,"

"Yet we have proof and accounts that convict you of these illicit crimes. Did you or did you not have sexual relations with Mark Smeaton, Sir Henry Norris, and George Boleyn?" Thomas said loud enough to fill the entire room. Anne gasped. Why would they believe that she had ever had sexual relations with her brother. "And did you or did you not conspire with these multiple lovers to kill the king?"

Kill the king! The words rang pain through her heart like a heated sword. She clutched at her chest and tried to stay as calm as she could amongst these destructive men.

"Who has accused me of such things? I would never betray his majesty. I would never try to kill him. I love him," it was all she could say between her sobs.

But the group around her was as cold as vipers watching their prey. None budged at the tears she was spilling. None cared to comfort her. Thomas' smile widened.

"We, the parliament and witnesses of god, declare thee guilty and to be sentenced to death," Thomas said as he motioned for the guards to take her away.

Xxxxxxxx

Now she watched as Henry took form in his bedroom window. He was too cowardly to face her death properly. She swallowed her anger and took note that once she was dead she would finally be happy and free. She let a smile crass her luscious lips as she came to the steps that would lead her to her death.

Xxxxxxx

Anthony Kingston entered the room that had been the Queen's quarters for the last four days. Every window had been opened and the foul smell of dying England had drifted into every corner of the room by now. He saw her sitting at the window watching the mass grow larger as her execution drew near. Was it enough for her to know that she was loved by the people of England? He doubted this. She turned to look at him. Her eyes were moist with tears once spilled. He watched her motion for him to come to her.

"Mr. Kingston, I hear that I shall not die afore noon," she started, "And I am very sorry therefore, for I thought to be dead by this time and past my pain."

He watched as her eyes registered the events that were going to pass. First the pain as her eyes moistened, then anger as flames erupted in her pupils, and finally they lit up with happiness. The final emotion confused him.

"There should be no pain, it is so little,"

"I heard say the executioner was very good," she paused for a second, giving him a brief glance and then a faint smile as her next words passed her lips, "And I have a little neck," she brought up her delicate hands and placed them around her neck. She let out a hearty laugh and glanced at everyone that was in the room. Her chamber maids hung their heads and dared not look at her. Even Anthony felt like kissing the Queen a final goodbye.

Mr. Kingston had experienced many executions, many had been women, but she, the Queen, seemed to be joyous for her death. She laughed and joked as if her head were not about to be cut off. He felt her hand touch his and heard her ask for him to perform a mass for her.

"I swear on the eternal salvation of my soul, upon the Holy Sacraments, that I have never been unfaithful to my King," so she said before and after receiving the body and blood of Christ.

Xxxxxxxx

Anne ushered for her two ladies' in waiting to stay behind at the bottom step as she made her final walk to the scaffold. She widened her grin, confusing many of the members of the crowd. They looked amongst each other. Asking with their eyes for the answers to her peculiar behavior. But only Anne knew the answers. She was happy for this death. It meant her escape from all of the pain she had caused herself.

"Good Christian People. I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it." she spoke her final words with a heavy heart, "I am come hither to accuse no ma, nor to speak anything of that, where of I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray to God save the King and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never,"

"And to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of this world and of you all and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul," with her final words she knelt in front of the scaffold in the upright French style of executions. "To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul."

Her ladies in waiting removed her ornate headdress and necklaces. One then tied a blindfold over her eyes.

"Where is my sword?"

The last words the Queen would hear before her death. She knew that the executioner had tried distracting her from her death, but she knew the sword was close to her. Death took her soul and raised it into heaven.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Anine woke with a start. The dream, or nightmare, grasped at her brain as if to tell her something. She rose from her bed and stared at the flames that danced in the fireplace. It still had not gone out. She sighed and placed herself in the oak chair near the hearth.

"A vision," she spoke out loud. Instinctively she grasped her neck remembering the doomed queen's words.

_And I have a little neck._

The vision had been so real. She had felt Anne's feelings. She had even felt her pain.

She stared at the fire moving her hand towards it; collecting its heat into her. It was her way of driving the cold of death out of her. The vision was still vibrant in her mind, leaving nothing to her imagination. She had witnessed the death of a queen. A strong and regal queen at that. Why had she been sent this vision? Was she meant to stop it? She gathered her question into one thought.

_I will ask my mother tomorrow_, she thought as she returned to her warm bed.


	3. Chapter 2: The Welsh Princess

March 26, 1527

"God's death," roared Anine, "Will you never stop this irritating chatter?"

The princess' ladies in waiting stopped in mid sentence to see the mid-sized slender young woman standing from her seat near the hearth. She scrutinized all of them before taking her leave of her own bed chamber.

Her chief lady in waiting, Anna Talin, a stern and welcoming young lady followed not far behind her princess. She was still in awe at the sudden outbursts the princess had been having lately. And all had been focused on her ladies. The young princess was dressed in a ravishing dress. The top made of fine silk that had been dyed in red. The skirt and train followed in the color, but was made in a thicker cloth. Her deep red hair was loose and flew long behind her. Stubborn and destructive did not even begin to describe Anine Wallace at age seventeen. Reckless, she was, lacking in anything resembling restraint. With razor wit and a bowdy tongue that only befitted a queen of such a savage and stunning country, Wales. She was never forced to admit that Anine's intelligence was broad and impressive. Talin chanced Anine's further wrath.

"I beg your majesty to give your ladies a little more compassion. They only speak of the recent move your majesty will make in only a few days."

"Do they think they will come?" added Anine, "I cannot seem that important of a lady to the king. My title in his court will be very small."

"I am told of this disguise your majesty must take on for our people's sake," Anna added, hoping to calm her princess down. But Anine stopped in her tracks and turned on her so suddenly that Anna almost collided with her.

"And they still chatter and joke as if it were so simple! Good God I have such simple people as my servants."

"Milady they are…."

"Ninnyhammers. The whole lot of them," Anine finished.

"Your majesty. Will you be taking anyone close to you to England?"

"I am allowed one lady in waiting to accompany me on this strenuous journey." Anine rolled her eyes, "Of course I would choose you Anna. You are after all my closest and most trusted friend in this viper's pit."

"Thank you milady."

Anine's eyes seemed to soften, and a hint of a smile tilted at the corners of her pink mouth. She turned and continued at a more leisurely pace. They headed toward the Queen's bed chambers. The hallways that lead them were trimmed with fine silks of deep reds and light gold. At the end of the hall stood a tall well-built man of confident posture and athletic grace. Talin regarded Blade Worsley, the queen's closest friend and royal prince of the late Dracule and Victoria Warsley, with quiet annoyance.

"Tis good to stay quiet now," the princess whispered to Anna as the passed the prince.

Anna could hear the distaste Anine had towards the royal prince. The arrogant prince's thoughts of the princess had been the known scandal of the kingdom for over three centuries. Even now the princess failed to acknowledge him. It had made for an unwholesome chatter amongst the ladies in waiting that had caused Anna great displeasure. Blade had only fueled it with his constant argument in public with Anine. Many started to say they were scorned lovers and therefore hated each other. That rumor had enraged the princess the most and had caused her to leave the kingdom for sometime. But eventually she had come back and had caused the prince great displeasure with her revenge. It had caused some great trouble between the queen and her lover, Blade's very own brother.

Everyone-from her own mother even down to Anna, who watched out for her princess' reputation and friendship-had begged for Anine to reconcile with the prince. But promptly she had refused, calling the prince and his brother a strong of foul names. This action had only caused more tension between the princess and her mother. Anine approached her mother's door. She reached up and caressed the coat of arms before deciding to knock.

"The nerve of that boy," Anine spat softly. She had never been one to control her temper and often Anna had witnessed it control the princess' actions. She turned to Talin and bestowed on her chief lady in waiting a warm and playful smile, "Where is the queen. I swear she wonders this dreadful castle more that I do," she faced one of the guards that stood post outside her mother's room. "Tell my mother that her daughter has sent for her." the guard nodded towards the princess, "I must leave your presence Anna. Do forgive me." and with a nod the princess was down the hall and out of sight.

It was late afternoon when the sunshine broke through the overcast, falling through the carriage winder and atop Anine's white and exposed neck. She had never been one for the closed neck fashions of the new ages. Purity, it seemed to be the new popularity of these stupid girls.

Anna and Anine had arrived in England some time during the night. The ride had been rough and rigorous leaving both Anna and the coachman tired. And while Anine watched the road she fell upon and abandoned castle. Tired herself she demanded the coachman to tire the night in such a lovely place. At first the coachman refused out of fear for the shades that most likely occupied it.

"Do you defy your lady?" Anine spoke with a trace of sharpness.

Those words had quelled the coachman and forced him to turn down the gravel path. He castle itself had not been empty for long. Remnants of the previous owners lay scattered across the grounds. The coachman came to a sever halt. Finally letting his personal thought be known to the princess.

"The sweat…" he caught himself as Anine exited the carriage, "Milady we must leave."

"Thomas stop,"

The coachman instantly closed his mouth and sat the reigns aside. He was used to be ordered by her and it did him well to obey. For it was no good idea to bring the wrath down upon him. She turned to him, a playful smile plastered across her face. She saw as the confused expression crossed her coachman's face. She had known both Thomas and Anna since her childhood. She had never known Thomas to worry about such things.

"What worries you?" Anine asked.

"We shouldn't act so bravely. People will talk if they were to witness this."

"Thomas it is a late hour and a horrible day for riding. Pray tell who would see us?" she said.

It was known that only the King of England himself rode these roads during the last afternoon and even then it was too hard of a day for riding. Was Thomas finally going made in the eternity? She did not falter in her advancement on the castle. They way it was made intrigued her. It was not in the fashion in which Welsh castles were made. The stones were smoother to her touch, yet greyer in tone. The inside was magnificent. High vaulted ceilings towered above her and oak floors welcomed her feet.

_Indeed the rich in England are far better off then the rich in Wales._

She wondered the halls, searching each room until she found the one to her linking.

The room itself had been stripped of all its valuables, cloth and furniture. It happened amongst the rich in this country that once cold from death the servants would begin to steal and burn what was not needed anymore. They believed that the cloth that in habited the room of the sick or deceased held the disease and therefore burned all cloth that they could find. She smiled at the low intelligence that physicians had on such matters. She left her chosen room and fell back into the hallway that connected to the front door. Anna entered sluggishly. Her eyes were half closed, still heavy from the sleep she had been woken from.

"Why here?" she nagged, "Thomas said that the sweat killed the owners."

"Do you wish for another hour's ride?" Anine asked a flash of anger in her eyes, "For that can be arranged."

Anna dropped to her knees before Anine.

"Your Majesty…." Anna could not go on for a moment. Anine hoped it was because of the terrible emotions that gripped her. Anna raised her arms and encircled her waist. Despite the many layers of cloth and corset bones she wore, she felt Anna trembling,

"Forgive me."

"Anna rise… I did not mean it,"

"No, no let me speak," though she was frightened of Anine and her head was bowed she spoke with such intensity that every word was sharp and clear. "I forgot my place for only that moment and forgot to what lengths my princess has gone on this journey. I remember when we were children; how you used to tell me you would never fall pray to your mother's schemes. But that was before everything happened. We have been sisters, friend and schoolmates. We laughed, we wept, and we have helped each other through the hard times. I should follow you with the utmost faith."

Talin did not raise her head to see her princess' expression. The talk of older days and their childhood had caused trembling in Anine to occur. Anine took a breathe before looking away from her friend

"Anna…" Anine's voice was soft now, but the look in Anna's eyes commanded her to be silent.

"Let me say this. I am yours completely-subject, vassal, obedient servant. But hear this, your majesty. No matter what you choose to make of this existence, I will always be by your side. I shall fight and die, be torn asunder to save our people and you."

Without warning Anna took her wrist and ran her dagger across both Anine's and hers. Combining their blood in a tie as she pressed the wounds together.

"God Anna," Anine fell to her knees, pressing her fingers against Anna's wrist. It was soiled with crimson. "I would not have you die for this. I want you to live after this. No matter how difficult this becomes. Now let us sleep."


	4. Chapter 3: King Henry's Court

January 6, 1532

"My lords," the king exploded into his counsel room with the force of a catapulted arrow, skewering each one of his advisors with a piercing glare. All of them could understand the reasoning behind his glare.

"The news from Italy is not so good, your majesty," said Cardinal Wolsey, opening up for the counsel to speak, "The Pope still refuses your request for a divorce from the Queen."

"Of course he does. Have you told the Pope what I intend to do if he continues to refuse my proposal?" demanded Henry.

"Yes, milord."

"And what does the Pope say to this?"

"He says that he will excommunicate your majesty if you do not return to your rightful queen and do not banish the Lady Anne from your court," Cardinal Wolsey explained.

"And how many days do I have to heed his command?" asked the King, "I think I can handle excommunication from his holiness."

"You only have twelve days to return to Katherine."

"Only twelve days to send Katherine from court," mused the king. "That does not give me ample time to prepare for her a comfortable banishment."

"Maybe it should be considered, that is returning to Queen Katherine, your majesty," added Lord Brandon.

"You wish me to be unhappy?" asked Henry with a tight mouth. "I was once a moth attracted to the flame of Spain only to be continuously burned by that flame. She had burned me too many times and I intend to be done with her."

Charles lowered his head in recognition of respect he should show his king. The King took his gaze back to his other advisors.

"Another matter to discuss is the party that will be done tonight," said Henry, "New ladies in waiting to my future Queen Anne will be arriving. I want everything to be perfect for her."

Henry scanned the faces of his privy counselors and closest friends and sensed that they were in sore need of calm and relaxation. He was hard on them, he knew-volatile, and unpredictable. He reveled in chaos and it amused him to use their weaknesses against them

He turned to Charles then. This was the one man he could trust completely above all other men in his court. They had grown up with each other, had loved each other more then Henry had loved his own brother. Charles was honest where he was manipulative. He was calm and collected where Henry flew into fits of pique and created hugely dramatic episodes simply to bring back attention to him, "You will accompany me later on."

"As your majesty wished," intoned Charles and inclined his head in a bow. He never ceased to be amazed by the man who had suddenly become king at the age of seventeen. He was a strong based man, but with this Boleyn girl he was being flighty. The king, he thought, is too blinded by love for him to see what it is doing to England. And yet in a few short years Anne had risen to a point of extreme power and demanded respect from England and her inhabitants.

Henry, who had been pacing the privy room incessantly as much from an overabundance of nervous energy, now sought the high backed chair with its cold cushions and drummed his fingers in the carved wooden claw arms, "Shall we move on?'

"How does your majesty propose to make Anne queen when she possesses no noble blood?"

"Make her of noble blood," announced Henry, "I made Charles a duke, I can give her a title as well, if it pleases me to do so."

"Of course, your majesty."

"Go start the papers then. I will want to see the title of Marques of Pembroke given to Anne."

"Yes your majesty," replied Cardinal Wolsey.

Henry noticed that Lord Brandon, the only friend he knew, wince at the reference to his becoming of the Duke of Suffolk.

"I meant no harm in my words, Charles. I only meant to make a point of the power that I hold over men and women. I have no wish in upsetting you."

"Your majesty," replied Charles with a bow of his head, "There is other matter to discuss."

"And what could that be Charles?"

"Your daughter Mary. Will she still be found a proper suitor after her mother's…"

"Do not speak to me of the Lady Mary," Henry leapt from his chair in a swirl of rustling cloth and wafts of heady cologne which left his advisors dizzy, "She is to be an illegitimate heir; a bastard child due to the annulment of my marriage to her stubborn mother. I will no longer use her in my affairs with other countries."

"But your majesty…"

"She would be better off in a nunnery like her mother should have been," he turned to face Lord Cromwell, "Indeed there are many matches for her and it be in your great interests to marry her off," he turned again and came eye to eye with the old Cardinal Wolsey who had served under both his father and brother, "If any of you think I could use her in her present state then by all means find a way."

"Forgive me, your majesty, for I reached into a subject that is beyond me," said Lord Brandon.

"If I did not know you any better, Charles, I would think that you are a dangerous adversary to my throne."

"Your majesty-"he said astonished.

"Or that you agree with the Pope in believing that Anne is a whore to Christendom and that I am foolish to love her like I do."

Henry was no longer smiling and an angry flush had spread across his cheeks, "Forgive me, Charles. I am in a quarrelling mood today and have decided to take it out on you," he said regaining his composure.

His advisors froze. It seemed that he had confused them with this loving gesture towards his friend. He rarely apologized for anything he did.

"Good day my lords."

It was already dark when Anine and her group clattered though the palace gates and brought her carriage to a halt at the torch lit front patico. Guards and footmen snapped to attention, following Thomas as he landed next to the carriage door. With a graceful movement he opened the door and helped Anine and Anna from the carriage. Both girls wore long cloaks lined with fur as to conceal their slender bodies from wondering eyes.

"Your majesty?"

She reached out and touched Anna's shoulder, then turned and swept pass the guards who flanked the massive palace entrance. Inside they were greeted by Cardinal Wolsey. Anine watched the old man carefully, soaking in any action he made.

"You must be Lady Anine," it was not a question. He knew who they were and his worn eyes found Anna, "And Lady Anna."

He didn't wait for either of them to reply, turning from them he headed past the tilt yard and through the privy gallery. Down one hall she could see many doors. It must be the apartments the King had made for his closest in court. Though the hall was torch lit and eerie, Anine felt the eyes of York and Tudor ancestors watching her during her passage. The soft sound of music floated through the hallway, casting a sense of recklessness about the three occupants.

Halfway down the hallway did the light from the gathering room cast an orange blaze across the floor. When led inside it was hard to believe this had once been Queen Katherine's court. Decorations lavished the stone walls with class and cheer, giving the ambience of youth and at the back of the room stood a long oak table that held ten chairs behind it. In the middle stood two ornately carved chairs that towered over the others. But neither Henry nor Queen Katherine occupied their royal seats.

"My god," uttered Anna over and over as Cardinal Wolsey whispered something to a boy who sat in the corner. He stood and prepared his lungs with air before sharply announcing, "The lady Anine and the Lady Anna of Wales."

The congregation of dancing fools, all drunk on wine, stopped for a split second and nodded as the Welsh women stepped into the lion's den that was King Henry the eighth's court. Slowly the men returned to the women they had chosen to dolt their passions upon. Anine felt at home, but she felt Anna tremble beside her. Anine turned to her friend and gripped her face between her hands.

"Do not… I repeat, do not let any man bed you tonight. I will not be sullied on the first night here. We may be Welsh women, but we will show them that we are not savage people," she demanded.

"Yes milady," Anna sniffled. She finally found her composure, "Same goes for you." She jested.

"The only man I will sleep with will be the king of England," Anine did not say more, but Anna guessed her next words.

"This fascinates and surprises me,"

"It does seem a little to young and chaotic for Katherine's liking."

What was known about Queen Katherine of Aragorn was that she was an older lady now, preferring the company of god, her king, and her daughter. She had abandoned parties a long time ago and the king had grown tired of her dullness.

"Perhaps," mused Anine aloud, "This is not for the present Queen but for another lady in the king's favor."

"Then who?" asked Anna, reluctantly she moved away from Anine, "for one of his mistresses. Maybe she has given him a son."

Maybe Anna's last statement was true. There had been news of a woman that had captured the king's fancy almost three years ago. But the king had been known to tire of his mistresses. But it could be that she was not a mistress at all, but a woman with more cunning than any woman before her.

"Do you believe that it could be for that woman we heard about?"

"Possibly; they say the king fancies Anne Boleyn the most out of any woman of the court. They say he hasn't even taken another mistress since setting his eyes on her. They say that she has cast a spell over the king and feigns virtue when she has already slept with him."

"You gathered all that when we stopped to buy from that merchant? I knew there was a reason for bringing you with me."

"Awe yes," Anna spoke with a smile, "I suppose I should tell you that we have caught the fancy of every man in this room."

Anna turned and stole a couple of grapes from the food table behind them. She returned her gaze back to Anine and plopped the grapes into her mouth. A large group of people circled past them pulling Anna into the throng, voices calling out for Anine to join, amusing Anine.

"Come on Lady Anna," one man spoke for the entire crowd, "Show us the Welsh culture."

Anine tried not to laugh at her friend's expense, having pictured her childhood friend blushing and curtseying out of embarrassment. She was sure Anna was trying to find a way out, but the loud wail of a violin pierced the laughter. Anine recognized the song immediately and almost wished that she hadn't.

"I see you're enjoying yourself in our foreign court."

Anine turned only to find she was staring at a tall, athletic man. He was handsome for being English. His brown hair had been cropped short and he smiled down at her. She flashed a smile back before responding.

"I believe it has amused Lady Anna more then I," Anine replied with a soft chuckle.

Anine was all at once acutely aware of the nearness of the stranger's body, the humid warmth of his breath on her cold neck. She felt the tips of his fingertips brush the small of her back as he went to grab some fruit. But it was the sharp tingling between her thighs that startled her the most fiercely, causing her face to flush so hat that she could imagine everyman becoming like dogs in heat around her. This brought an instant rush of anger and embarrassment. She knew it had been too long since she had been around the presence of men. Anine blurted, "I think that I am not used to these events anymore."

She imagined she heard the stranger laugh haughtily. But his voice was sturdy when she spoke to her.

"I'm Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk."

Anine was thankful that the man had introduced himself before she would have had to make a guess at who he was.

"Anine Wallace," she whispered, "Lady of Wales."

"You should join me in my bed chambers tonight,"

As the words had been spoken Anine felt the anger she had hidden rise up again. She should have known what Charles intentions were. She had lifted her face and produced a fake yet charming smile to hide her disgust towards him.

"I'm sorry Lord Brandon but I do not intend on sleeping with any man," she responded sourly, "That is except for my future husband."

"I understand and I hope that in my intentions I did not offend you," Charles responded with a bow and left her alone at the table.

Now both girls followed Cardinal Wolsey down the dark hallway of private rooms and anterooms. He pointed to their bedroom door and left without another word. Anine barged through their door like a whirlwind, scrutinizing the large space with angry eyes. She kept her cloak pulled tight around her, hoping her angry manner would conceal her fluttering heart and shaking legs, "I like my other room better."

It was thankfully quiet but Anine was not alone like she wished she was. Anna stood very still near the doorway, her arms crossed below her breast, a grim look upon her pale beautiful face.

Anine was Anna's princess, but there was no way not to be around each other. Instead she moved across the room to the fireplace, trying to ease her nervous smile, and turned her back on Anna. She flicked her wrist towards the flameless pile of wood in the hearth, watching it as flames appeared. Wordlessly, Anna moved to her bed and began to undo her corset. Anine followed her and reached up to remove Anna's hands from her back. Anna attempted to turn to face her princess but Anine spoke quietly, "Let me do this. It will help me from destroying things in this room."

Anna understood and respectfully turned her gaze back in front of her. Anine fumbled with the strings feeling tears spill as she tried to hide her emotions from Anna. Usually she cried alone and in the confines of her royal chambers back home, but here she couldn't avoid being seen. Anna turned to face her princess. Her eyes widening at the sight of tears sliding down Anine's face. She knew that this was Anna's worst fears. Anine, her best friend since childhood, was slowly crumbling at the seams. In that moment, the flames in the hearth dancing, when the innocent first tears were being shed, everything Anna and Anine had between them changed. And yet, she thought as she looked into Anine's eyes, nothing had changed. Nothing at all.

Anine's rigid posture relaxed, her sobs slowly vanishing with Anna's familiar ministrations. She knew her friend could smell Charles Brandon's scent rising off her clothing. She knew Anna was using restraint; trying to convey her thoughts in a more proper and human like way. When Anine was a little girl, a princess sent to court with a chance at throne, Anna had shown her a loving yet strict friendship. Her protective instincts were almost catlike with the necessary fierceness and loyalty the daughter of Enchantress deserved. She'd always spoke harshly, knowing it would grab attention and respect at any situation.

"I admire you," she said with quiet restraint.

"Why?" Anine replied. She was shocked by her friend's words. Anna was folding the princess's clothing carefully as she helped Anine out of each piece. Anine, now in her Welsh garments, shivered and moved closer to the fire.

"You took on a task that could bring back out people from that wretched sister planet we were forced to flee to. You are a stronger woman than I could ever be," said Anna in a stony voice.

"Anna…" 

Anna held out a red satin dressing gown. Anine slipped her arms through the voluminous sleeves and pulled the fur lining around her. Suddenly she felt weak. She slumped into a chair and looked up at Anna.

"Milady," she continued, "You are my life and I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood. But if you cannot handle this journey then we will leave at your command."

"But I can not just leave," cried Anine.

"You have said this to me before but your aunt, your mother, cannot stop you,"

Anine looked away. She understood that she had the choice to leave and forget the task if needed be done for her sanity. But her mother had sword to her that she would hunt her and her accomplices down if she were to flee. Yet she had all the power she needed to overthrow her mother. God had gifted her with that much. Maybe she could do as she pleased. Anine trembled at Anna's words. But the young girl was not finished yet. She knelt and took the princess' hand in her own, "Your majesty knows what can happen and what wont, but I beseech you to understand my words."

"I know, Anna that I can choose to leave this court at anytime. But listen now. She has threatened to kill me and anyone who helps me. I can leave, but I would not risk your life or the life of Thomas," Anna started to object, but Anine placed a finger on her friend's lips to seal them, "Say no more, Anna. I am here for our people and I will never let them down."

With those words Anna knew she was thoroughly defeated. She pulled herself up to her feet and bowed towards the princess. She never ceased to be confounded and constantly amazed by Anine.

This mysterious woman, her flaming red hair framing her less then innocent face, would be the death of many things.


End file.
